


A Glee Christmas Carol

by AntarcticBird



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntarcticBird/pseuds/AntarcticBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one in which Sue is Ebenezer Scrooge and Kurt and Blaine plus a few ghosts remind her what it means to be human. A Christmas Carol/Glee crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Glee Christmas Carol

**Author's Note:**

> There are some things I would like to point out, but as they are slightly spoilery for the story itself, you can either read them now or come back here and read them after you're finished the story.
> 
> 1) Of course, Kurt is Bob Cratchit and Blaine is his husband. Now, the story is still set in the mid-19th century, which leaves us with a slight anachronism, doesn't it? So you can either assume that this is a present day/future alternate universe that hasn't seen any kind of technological progress since the 1840s, OR you can see this as an alternate universe in which same-sex marriage was quite common in the 19th century. I'll leave that to you.
> 
> 2) We all know "A Christmas Carol," correct? So everyone who reads this is aware of what happens? As in, brief character death? No one _actually_ dies, though, we all know that, too, right? Just making sure. Because heartbreak is part of this story, but it will all be all right in the end, because that's how Mr. Dickens wrote it and I'm just copying him here.

Rod Remington was dead: to begin with. No, really, he was. A lot of important people had put their signature on a piece of paper that proved it. Sue Sylvester was one of those people. And Sue might have been a lot of things, but she wasn't a liar. So, old Rod was dead as a door-nail.

I really don't know why door-nails are said to be particularly dead, and not coffin-nails or some such thing. But since people seem to have agreed that a door-nail is the deadest of all nails, I'm not going to argue, because seriously, that's not the point of this story. Also, the expression has apparently been around since the 14th century, so where would we be if I started questioning it now. Maybe it has something to do with alliteration, or maybe the answer is a lot more complicated. Who knows. Anyway, I'm going to repeat it again (for emphasis): Rod Remington was dead as a door-nail.

Sue knew that he was dead, of course. They had been partners for many years. Sue had been the co-owner of the business, his only friend, his only mourner - even if she had never really mourned him. After all, his death meant he didn't claim his part of the profit any more.

Now, there is no doubt that Rod Remington was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wondrous can come of the story I am going to relate.

Sue never painted out old Remington's name. It stood, through all those years above the office door: Sylvester and Remington. Because that was the name of the business.

She was a mean one, Sue Sylvester. No one ever saw her smile: she was bitter, ungenerous, strict, and no kind word ever slipped from her lips. Solitary and cold, she never needed anyone and only sneered at those who offered her a friendly greeting on her way to work, where she was the first one to arrive at the office each day and the last one to leave each night. Not even Christmas could soften her features and thaw her soul. Her entire being was made of ice; her words and her attitude towards those who came in contact with her was no less cutting than the cold winds of a winter storm.

Sue was well aware of the fact that people were afraid of her and that was just the way she liked it. She had spent many long years accumulating her fortune, protecting it with everything she had and building her reputation. Success was her only friend and ambition her constant companion. She wanted nothing else from life.

And that was how Christmas found her – sitting at her desk in her dark, damp office, the snow falling heavily outside. All those who were lucky enough to have a home to go to were on their way to their loved ones.

Not her clerk, though. She could see him through the door working at his smaller desk; she looked up every once in a while to ensure that he was indeed still working. Not that he had ever given her any reason to doubt that he was anything but diligent. Still, Sue trusted no one.

It wasn't long before the clerk lifted his head again, putting down his work and looked over at her. “I believe it is closing time, Miss Sylvester,” he said.

Sue turned toward the fireplace where the smallest possible fire was barely burning, giving off just enough heat to prevent them both from being frozen to their seats. One look at the clock on the mantelpiece told her he was right, and she heaved a sigh.

“Fine, Porcelain. Go on home, then. I'll see you tomorrow morning at eight.”

The clerk rose to his feet, walking over to her desk where he stopped to look down at her in disbelief. “My name is Kurt, as you very well know. Also, tomorrow is Christmas,” he stated, obviously expecting Sue to respond to that in some way.

Sue merely shrugged her shoulders and folded her hands on the table. “I am well aware of that.”

“But, Miss Sylvester... surely you don't expect me to come in on Christmas?”

“Do _not_ tell me you want the entire day, tomorrow,” Sue replied.

“I don't think it's customary to work on Christmas,” Kurt replied. “All the other businesses will be closed as well. Who would you be doing business with?”

Sue threw up her hands in surrender and sighed. “Very well. I suppose you must have the entire day, then. But it is not fair, let me tell you that. I shall have to pay you an entire day's wages for nothing. Be here at seven the day after to make up for it or I will give your job to someone who is willing to actually do it.”

Kurt gave her a cold look and turned to go before he seemed to remember something. “Oh, one more thing,” he said. “Will Schuester was here earlier to ask for donations for the children's homeless shelter. I am passing it on my way home, so I could stop by to give him your answer. What do you want me to tell him?”

“To go bother someone else,” Sue replied. “I have no interest in giving my hard earned money to a handful of useless brats.”

“You could afford it, you know,” Kurt pointed out. “Easily. You could give them a Christmas they would never forget. You could build another shelter to take in those who are still living on the streets. I don't get how you can sit on all that money and just ignore how much good you could do with it.”

“Don't you dare criticise me,” Sue said, rising from her chair. “If they want money, I suggest they work for it.”

“They’re just children. Besides, I think they are a little preoccupied trying not to die,” Kurt said, his voice no less icy then Sue's.

“Let them die, if they want,” Sue said. “Decrease the surplus population.”

Kurt didn't even dignify this with a response, merely giving her a haughty and disgusted look before going to find his old battered coat. A coat that still looked a lot better than the clothes most of Sue's business associates were wearing to official meetings. Kurt Hummel was always well dressed, even if most of his clothes were worn thin. He found ways of repairing them, making them seem like more than they were. Sue didn't like that about him. What right had he to be so vain, trying to make himself look like he were someone important? Being her office clerk ought to be enough for him.

She tried to remember why she had ever hired him. She had liked his ambition, she supposed, but that was the only thing about the man she could stand. Then again, there wasn't really anyone in this world that she liked. So, Porcelain was just as good of a clerk as anyone and as long as he wasn’t asking for a raise or a day off, he did good work.

“Merry Christmas,” he said looking back at her, his hand already on the door knob.

“Merry Christmas, indeed,” Sue snorted. “What do you have to be merry about? You're poor enough.”

“And who's fault is that?” Kurt asked almost sweetly, giving her one of those smiles that she abhorred. “And if that's your way of thinking, then why aren't you a little merrier, rich as you are?”

With that, he was gone and Sue finished up her work in peace before putting out the lights and starting on her way home.

It was still snowing and the wind was icy, but Sue hardly noticed it. The cold lived in her bones and had become so much a part of her very being, she had forgotten how to shiver long ago.

Sue lived in an old house not far from the office, a house she had, just like half of the firm, inherited from Rod Remington. It had been a family home once, so it was rather big and must have looked warm and inviting once. Sue, however, kept most of the spare rooms locked and forgotten; the façade was crumbling and grey now. It looked as gloomy and worn-out as, no doubt, the very pit of Sue Sylvester's soul.

As Sue walked up the front steps, searching for the key in her pocket, her eyes fell upon the knocker on the door. There was nothing special about this knocker, except that it was big and old and more than a little ugly. Sue saw it every day, every morning when she locked the door behind her and every night when she returned here to have her solitary dinner and go to sleep. It was just an ordinary knocker, rusty from disuse because Sue never had any visitors.

And yet this night, as she fit the key into the lock and started to turn it, all of a sudden it wasn't the knocker she was seeing. It was Rod Remington's face, staring at her from where it was sticking out of the door; spectral and too small and with an unearthly shine to it, brighter than skin, paler than metal. Taken aback, Sue let go of the key and shook her head to clear her vision, and sure enough, when she looked again, it was just a plain old knocker.

“Don't be silly,” she said to herself. “You're just seeing things because you’ve been working too hard. That's all.”

Still, she could not help but inspect every room in the house before sitting down to dinner. Angry at herself for being so easily frightened, she left off half the lights and built a fire even smaller than the one in the office. It was childish to be afraid of the dark. Besides, candles and coal were expensive. She wasn't going to waste any during this darkest time of the year.

After her usual meal of stale bread and cheese, she wrapped herself in her favourite nightgown and watched the shadows moving on the wall, gathering up what little heat she could from the fireplace. She was going to go to bed soon, very soon, just another minute...

She woke with a start as the bell above the mantelpiece started ringing. It was an old, disused bell that communicated with some locked chamber in another part of the house, a remnant of days gone by when this house had been a home to people other and less lonely than Sue Sylvester. She sat up, her heart beating faster in her chest as she found, much to her dismay, that she was not sleeping and this was not a dream.

Clutching the arms of her chair she felt her eyes widen with horror as more bells in the house started pealing and then suddenly a light appeared, cold and blue, just a little to her left. Soon it was filling the entire room; she had to close her eyes to stop it from blinding her.

The ringing stopped when the light was at its brightest, just as it started fading away again, and when she dared open her eyes finally, the chair next to hers was occupied with the pale, ghost-like form of a man.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“You know who I am,” the spectre responded.

“No,” Sue gasped. “It can't be. You are dead.”

“Of course I am now,” it – _he_ – replied. “But in life I was your partner Rod Remington.”

“You were not,” Sue insisted. “This isn't true. This isn't happening. This _can't_ be happening.”

“You don't believe I'm here?” Rod asked.

“Of course not,” Sue said.

“But you can see me. Why do you doubt what you see?” He turned his face to look at her, his eyes colourless and empty and tortured.

“Because there are no such things as ghosts,” Sue explained. “I am probably just having a nightmare, or I ate something wrong. Although I must say that I would have expected my mind to come up with a better hallucination than you.”

“Sue,” the ghost said. “I am here, and you better believe it. Because what I came to tell you is important. Your life may depend on it.”

“My life?” Sue shook her head in disbelief. “Do not try to convince me that you are here to help me. You never helped anyone but yourself when you were alive.”

“And that is why I am now forced to wear these,” Rod said with a sad smile, lifting his arms. And Sue saw, for the first time, the heavy chains wound about his wrists, his chest, even his legs. She shuddered.

“Where do they come from?” she asked. “Can't you get rid of them? They must be dragging you down horribly.”

“They do,” Rod sighed. “That is why I'm here. To right some wrongs, correct some of my worst mistakes, and earn a peaceful rest, free of the chains I forged for myself in life.”

“What do you mean, you forged them yourself?” Sue felt cold all of a sudden, a feeling she had almost forgotten, and terror seemed to seize her heart. “You were a good businessman, an honest man. Well, you weren't all _that_ bad. You never did anything _very_ wrong.”

“Listen to me, Sue,” Rod said. “My time here is almost over. And I must tell you this as part of my penance. I came here to warn you.”

“Warn me of what?” Fighting the impulse to run, she forced herself to stay in her chair. She did not want to see this terrible, tormented, chained shadow of her old partner sitting here and talking to her. This wasn't _real_. It couldn't be. And yet she couldn't doubt any of it either.

“You are busy forging your own chains, Sue Sylvester, and since your life is already longer than mine, chances are that yours will be even heavier than the ones I'm wearing. But not all hope is lost for you. You have yet a chance to escape my fate, to turn your life around.”

“What do I have to do? Tell me, please,” Sue begged, cold sweat breaking out over her skin.

“You will be haunted by three ghosts,” Rod told her, his chains rattling as he started to fade. “Go with them. Listen to them. Change. And escape my fate.”

“No,” Sue cried. “No more ghosts, please, there must be another way...”

Rod had almost completely disappeared by now, nothing more than a grey shadow against the faded blue of the chair. “Expect the first ghost when the bell tolls One,” he cried in an eerily thin voice, and then he was gone and Sue was alone.

She shook it off quickly, the fear and the feeling of ghosts, because that was what Sue Sylvester did. Nothing frightened her. To prove her point, she went straight to bed. If the ghost would want to talk to her, it would bloody well have to wait until she was awake.

Which turned out to be at exactly one o'clock.

There was a bell ringing again and a white light filling her room, blinding her even through the drawn bed curtains, and Sue immediately sat up, a chill running down her spine as she saw something moving by the foot of her bed.

“Who's there?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound as firm and commanding as ever while, in truth, she was trembling all over. No need for the intruder to know that, though.

When no reply came, she reached out carefully with shaking hands and drew back the curtains. A young woman stood before her, her skin dark yet almost translucent and her black hair tied into a ponytail.

“Rise and shine,” the woman said, putting her hands on her hips and grinning at her. “I hear you've been a very bad girl lately.”

Sue opened and closed her mouth, trying to speak, but not really finding the right words to say to this spectre who had appeared in her bedroom in the middle of the night. “Who are you?” she finally croaked, dreading the answer, but having to know anyway.

“What do I look like?” the ghost woman said. “I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past. But you can call me Santana, to save time. I was never really one for formalities.”

“What do you want with me?” Sue wanted to know.

“I kinda need to show you a few things, so if you would be so kind and just take my hand...” the ghost said matter-of-factly, holding out a thin, shining hand.

“What kinds of things?” Sue asked, staring at the hand offered to her, reluctant to touch it.

“God, I’m used to haunting stupid people, but you're really not the brightest,” the ghost sighed. “The past, of course. Now hurry up a little, two of my associates are already waiting for you, there's no time to lose.”

And before Sue could protest, the ghost called Santana had grabbed her hand and then they were up in the air, rushing through a sea of red and yellow clouds, spinning and spinning and Sue felt like she was going to faint or be sick any second. None of this could be real.

When she came to her senses, she found herself standing in an old familiar room, a room she hadn't seen in decades, a room she had sworn to never enter again as long as she lived.

“What is this?” she asked, feeling a little frightened and a lot angry. “Why did you bring me here?”

“To show you what you once had,” Santana explained. “Do you remember this?”

Sue nodded, focusing on her breathing. Of course she remembered. Even if she didn't want to.

It was Christmas, clearly. There was the tree, the poorly decorated tree with no presents under it and there was the old fireplace, a warm and roaring fire heating up the room and there...

There was the reason she had never wanted to return.

The reason was sitting by the fire, a book in her lap, looking at the pictures and tracing the outlines of her favourite ones with her fingers. She looked so young and so happy. She had always looked so happy when they had been here, in this room. It had been their hiding place, a place to hide away from a world that could never understand them.

“Jean,” Sue whispered, tears welling up behind her eyes.

“She was your sister,” Santana said.

“She was my family,” Sue pointed out. “Our parents were never around.”

“She was all you had,” Santana added. “Oh, and there _you_ are.” She pointed toward the door, where a younger version of Sue Sylvester had just entered, walking over to her sister and sitting down beside her on the worn-out rug.

“Merry Christmas, Jeannie,” young Sue said to her sister.

“Merry Christmas, Sue,” her sister said, handing her the book she had been looking at. “Will you read to me, please?”

“Of course I will,” young Sue answered, kissing her sister's forehead and taking the book from her hands.

“You spent all your Christmases alone with her, didn't you?” Santana asked as the two little girls curled up in front of the fire, one reading and the other listening, a picture so serene and peaceful it hurt Sue to watch.

“I never cared that it was just the two of us,” Sue explained. “It didn't matter that our parents weren't around. We were used to it. We were a family. We never needed anyone else.”

“What happened?” Santana asked.

“Life happened,” Sue said. “And life isn't fair. Please, take me away from here. I don't want to see this. It hurts too much.”

Santana looked at her and for the first time, Sue thought there was something like pity in the ghost's eyes. “I have more to show you before we are done, I'm afraid,” she said.

“Then get on with it,” Sue insisted. “Anything but this, please.”

Santana nodded, taking her hand as time started spinning and whirling around them, but this time, Sue was prepared.

“For the record, I _am_ sorry,” Santana said. “I am not enjoying this any more than you are. But you need to be reminded.”

“Reminded of what?” Sue asked, but before Santana could answer, scenes started to unfold before her eyes. As much as she didn’t want to see any of it, Sue couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink.

She saw the two girls from the fire walking down the street, rounding a corner, being faced with an angry crowd that threw rocks at them, yelling words like “freak” and “get away from us” at her sister. She watched the girls hide in a dark alley, waiting until it was safe to go home again. A moment later, they were back in the old room, opening a letter from their parents that would only tell them that they wouldn't come home just yet. Christmas after Christmas flashed by, the girls getting older and older, one of them getting weaker and weaker, and then, finally, she saw a funeral, finally her parents, dressed in black and standing there like they had any right to be there, and a young Sue, broken and crying, bent over her sister's small coffin and knowing that the world would never be right again.

“Enough,” Sue yelled, sobbing, trying to wind her way out of Santana's grip. “Why torture me like this? Please, just let me go home. Please, I can't stand... I never wanted... It took me so long to forget...”

“Oh, but you never did,” Santana answered. “That's part of the problem, isn't it? To be so young and to have to face all of that alone... How could you ever forget the way the world treated you? The answer is that you didn't. They say it only makes you stronger, but it didn't, did it? It broke you.”

“No,” Sue cried. “No, it did not. Did you actually watch any of that? The world is cruel. It's cold and heartless. I knew that even when I was a child. I learned to fight it, is all. I learned to not let it break me.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. She had seen enough and she struggled against the ghost-woman's grip on her. “Why do you have to make me go through this again, you demon?”

“I know this is hard for you.” The ghost squeezed Sue's hand lightly, not allowing her to break free just yet. “But you can hardly blame _me_ for any of this. All of it happened, it's your past. It's part of who you are. And there's more. You know what I'm going to show you next, don't you?”

Sue didn't answer right away, just wiped at her eyes with her free hand. “Go on, then,” she finally said. “If you must.”

Santana nodded, and the world started spinning again.

Sue in her mid-twenties, sitting in the upstairs office bent over columns of numbers while everyone else was celebrating Christmas downstairs. Sue about to turn thirty, walking home through the snow on Christmas eve, not even noticing the carollers on the street corners, walking right past the beggars in their rags that were much too thin for December. Sue with the hair at her temples turning grey, her eyes cold and unfeeling as she moved into the bigger office days before Christmas, the one that had been her partner's until a few days ago. Sue behind her desk, telling her clerk to get those eviction notices posted before the end of the week, disregarding his protests when he told her they would turn people out of their homes just in time for Christmas.

It didn't take more than a few minutes before Sue found herself back in the present on the street outside her house, but she felt so much older all of a sudden, as if she had lived her life all over again. Suddenly she was tired; bone-deep exhausted, wanting to lie down where she was standing and go to sleep. Maybe it would help her forget again. She had never wanted to remember. The past was the past, why let it get to you? She had never cared before.

Santana let go of her hand, taking a step back. “I think this concludes our brief trip,” she said. “Just remember that it wasn't always like this. You knew what kindness was, once. You learned it from the kindest soul you ever met. Ask yourself what she would see if she could look at you now. Would she be proud? Would she even recognise you? Just think about it. I have to go now.” And with another blinding flash of light, she was gone and Sue found herself back in her bed, still shaking, openly crying now; she didn't stop until she heard the ringing of bells again.

She knew what that meant now, of course she did. And she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been waiting. No, not waiting, more like expecting. Dreading. She didn't want any more of this, she couldn't even really believe any of this was happening at all, despite the fact that she had seen it, she had been there. She only wished this was over. And yet she knew with an unidentifiable certainty that this was inevitable, that there would be no escape. She knew a second ghost was coming and that she'd have to go with them. What choice did she have but to endure this until the sun rose, chasing away this nightmare she found herself in.

Still, she wouldn't be Sue Sylvester if she just went without a fight.

Knowing the ghost was already in her bedroom, she turned her face to the side from where she had buried it into the pillow and closed her eyes. “Just leave me alone,” she shouted. “I don't want to see any more.”

“Of course you do. You just don't know it yet.”

The voice sounded less cold than that of the first spirit, and yet Sue was even more careful after everything that had already happened tonight. “Believe me, I _do_ know. I guess since you’re already dead there’s no point in threatening to kill you. Still, I would thank you to just leave me in peace and go back to wherever you came from.”

“No,” the ghost said and Sue finally looked up. It was another young woman, tall and blonde, with a kind smile on her face. “I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present,” she introduced herself.

“You don't have a name?” Sue asked. “Your friend who had so much fun ripping my heart out at least paid me the courtesy of telling me her real name.”

“You can call me Brittany,” the ghost said. “And I'm sorry if my friend upset you. I'm sure she didn't mean to. It's just that sometimes you have to hurt before you can heal. Follow me now, please.”

“Where?” Sue asked. She knew that arguing was pointless. She might as well suffer through this night and start pushing everything to the back of her mind again tomorrow.

“It's Christmas,” the Brittany Ghost explained. “Let's go see the magic.”

“There is no such thing as magic,” Sue snorted.

“People also say there’s no such things as ghosts, don’t they?” Brittany countered. “Take my hand.”

Sue did as she was told, suddenly intent on getting this over and done with. A second later, Sue found herself standing outside her house. It was day, people were hurrying down the street through the snow that hadn’t stopped falling, smiles on their faces and a friendly greeting on their lips for everyone they passed.

“Merry Christmas,” Brittany said, smiling at Sue.

“I know what Christmas looks like,” Sue spat out. “I have to see it every year, all of this nonsense. This is a waste of my time.”

“Well, if all of the city celebrating isn't enough to convince you, let's have a look at a few very special people,” Brittany suggested. “I have the perfect idea.” She took Sue's hand again. Another second later they were standing on a smaller street with smaller houses, all of them rather run-down and shabby. Sue shuddered.

“What did you bring me here for? What could I possibly see in a place like this that could convince me that Christmas is anything but depressing and superfluous?”

Brittany pointed at the house right in front of them, a small stone building with a tiny front yard and a blue door with chipped-off paint. “This,” she said, “is you clerk’s house. This is where Kurt Hummel lives.”

Sue hesitated, and Brittany gave her a friendly push toward the window. “Go ahead, have a look. They can't see you.”

“They?” Sue asked. She had always imagined that Porcelain lived alone. He couldn't have a family; he couldn't support them, not with the little she paid him.

Brittany just kept nodding at her encouragingly and Sue stepped up to the window, peering inside. And, sure enough, there was an entire family in there. She couldn't see Kurt anywhere, but there were three children playing in the corner by the fire and a dark-haired man standing at the stove, stirring something in a large pot.

“Who _are_ all those people?” Sue wanted to know.

“Kurt's husband and their children, of course,” Brittany explained in a voice that indicated she had expected Sue to know at least this much about her only permanent employee. “Didn't you know he had children? Or a husband?”

“He never said.”

“Did you ever ask?”

Before Sue could answer, she heard footsteps down the street and a clear, familiar voice humming a simple Christmas tune. Kurt.

Sue watched him as he approached the house, a spring in his step that she had never seen before, and then he opened the door and Sue pressed her face to the window again as he stepped inside, calling out to his family.

The three children, two girls and one boy as Sue could see now, immediately jumped up to run over to him, throwing themselves into his waiting arms with cries of joy. “Dad, Dad, Dad,” they shouted. “You're home.”

“I'm home,” Kurt laughed, kissing all three of them and ruffling their hair before sending them off to play with their toys again. He crossed the room then, walking over to the man at the stove – his husband – who had turned around and was watching him with a warm smile on his face.

Sue felt like she was intruding on a private moment – which, technically, she was – but she couldn't tear her eyes away. Kurt – her cold, distant, clerk with the horrible attitude – reached out and cupped his husband's cheek with one hand, the expression on his face so loving and tender she almost couldn't believe this was the same man she had seen in the office every day for the past few years. This was the same man who seemed to live and breathe sarcasm and who was actually the only person she knew to ever stand up to her.

She watched the dark-haired man lean forward and kiss Kurt, watched the happy, almost blissful expression on Kurt's face as the two wrapped their arms around each other and just held on as if this was all they ever wanted from life.

They were happy, she realised all of a sudden. What she was seeing was _happiness_ , and the concept was so foreign to her, she wasn't sure she could really understand it any more.

“Do you want to go?” Brittany asked.

Sue shook her head slowly, and before she could really think about it, she had opened her mouth to speak. “No, I want to stay a while, if that's possible. I would _like_ to stay, please.” Her own words surprised her, but she wasn't about to take them back. There was something about this scene that made her want to be a part of it a little longer, even if she was just an invisible bystander. A witness. She felt herself drawn in without knowing why, and while the feeling scared her significantly, she didn't feel like fighting it. Which scared her even more, when she thought about it.

“Then go on inside,” Brittany encouraged her.

“I can't,” Sue said. “They'll see me.”

“They can't see us,” Brittany assured her, and, taking her hand, pulled her right through the wall.

They settled in the corner next to the front door and stayed while Kurt helped his husband put the finishing touches on their Christmas dinner. She stayed while the family gathered at the table, stayed while they were eating, talking and laughing. She watched them share everything even though it was so little, and she couldn’t leave.

“They call this a Christmas feast,” Sue said, shaking her head. “It's hardly enough to feed two people, let alone five.”

Brittany nodded. “They can't afford more. You know they can't.”

The family was half-way through dinner when the husband – his name was Blaine, Sue had found out by now – bent over in his chair and started coughing, his face going slightly grey as his eyes started to water. The children all stopped eating and fell silent at once, looking pale and scared and Kurt was out of his chair in a second, kneeling by Blaine's side, stroking his back, his clear eyes clouded over with worry and fear.

“It's all right, darling, breathe,” he soothed, his voice shaking. “Just breathe. It's okay.”

“What's wrong with him?” Sue asked, hearing the fear in her own voice.

“He's sick,” Brittany said. “Very sick.”

Sue looked at him, suddenly noticing how thin he was, how tired he looked. “Will he be all right?” she wanted to know. “Is he going to die?”

Brittany shrugged. “That's the future. My department is the present. But I can see the shadow of an empty chair and four broken hearts. If nothing is going to change, yes, he's going to die.”

Sue whipped her head around, staring at Brittany. “How can you be so calm about this?”

Brittany smiled at her. “Just let him die and decrease the surplus population. Isn't that what you said?” she asked.

Sue gasped, recognising her own words; turning back toward the scene before her. Blaine had finally stopped coughing and was breathing shakily, his eyes squeezed shut and a hand pressed against his ribs. Kurt hugged him to his chest, threading his fingers through Blaine’s hair, tears in his eyes. Sue felt her chest constrict as she watched him place a gentle kiss to his husband's temple before walking back to his own chair and smiling at the children. “It's okay,” he told them. “It's Christmas. Don't look like that. Your daddy is fine. And now I want to see you all smile and finish your dinner. We're all going to be very happy today. Right Blaine?”

Blaine sat up a little straighter and smiled reassuringly. “Right. I'm okay. Eat up, everyone.”

“Can't you save him?” Sue begged. “Please, save him. I don't want him to die.”

“There is nothing I can do,” Brittany said. “I'm a ghost. What he needs is a doctor. He can't afford one, and that's not really anything I have the power to change. Only the living can fix the things that are wrong with this world.”

Sue stayed all through dinner and even after that, watched them clear away the plates and gather in front of the fireplace where the two men played with their three children until bed time. They were laughing, they were laughing so much and the smile on Blaine's face when Kurt picked up one of the little girls and started spinning her around in circles until she was giggling happily and clinging to him with both arms – it almost brought tears to Sue's eyes.

These people had nothing and yet... they seemed so rich. They were thin and their house was small and everything they owned was cheap, but the way they smiled at each other – it seemed more valuable than money ever could. But Sue – Sue of all people – knew that even this could be taken away. Even this didn't have to be forever. Everything on this earth could be lost, no matter how hard you were hanging on to it; even a smile.

She stayed while they all sat by the fire, Kurt with one child on each knee and the third curled up against Blaine's side as he read them all a bed time story. She followed them when they took the children into the back room with the three small beds in it and sang them to sleep, Kurt's clear voice and Blaine's darker one mingling in the most beautiful lullaby Sue had heard in her life.

Sue could tell that Brittany was getting impatient, but she couldn't leave yet. She had to stay, just a little bit longer. “Why do they even have children?” she asked. “They have so little. How can they afford it?”

Brittany gave her a long look. “They can't really afford it,” she explained. “But these children lost their parents. And at the homeless shelter, they would be even worse off, with even less food and no one to sing to them at night or hold them when they have bad dreams or play with them before bed time. Kurt and Blaine don't own very much, but they have so much love to give. Don't you think it's right that they give it to these children?”

“I never knew,” Sue said. “I never knew about any of this.”

She took a last look at the sleeping children before following the two men back into the main room where Blaine was sitting in a chair by the fire as Kurt was turning the sofa into a bed for the two of them.

When he was done, Blaine, who had already changed into his pyjamas, crawled under the covers while Kurt went to the bathroom. Sue knew she should leave, but she had so many more questions, she had so much more to learn about this unusual family.

Kurt returned and slipped under the sheets next to Blaine, who immediately curled up against his side.

Kurt took him in his arms, holding him close as he kissed him gently. “Merry Christmas, my darling,” he said.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Blaine responded.

“I have to be the luckiest man in the world,” Kurt said. “I'm raising three amazing children with the love of my life.”

“Hey, I'm doing the same thing,” Blaine said, grinning. “We should talk sometime.”

Kurt laughed. “You are such an idiot. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Blaine curled up even closer to Kurt and buried his face against his husband's neck. “Life doesn't get any better than this.”

Kurt smiled and hummed happily. “It really doesn't.”

“Time to go,” Brittany said.

The scene before them started to fade, but Sue kept her eyes on the two men until the very last moment.

“Kurt,” she heard Blaine whisper against his husband's face. “I'm so grateful for every day I have with you.”

“You mean everything to me,” Kurt whispered back, and then the room was gone and Sue found herself standing in a graveyard in the dark, snow falling heavily all around her.

“Brittany?” she called, wiping at her face, not sure if the wetness there was melted snowflakes or tears. “Where are you?”

“I'm afraid this is where I leave you,” Brittany said, suddenly appearing next to her. Sue didn't know if it was because she hadn't looked properly before or if the change had just happened really quickly, but Brittany had grown old in the past few minutes. There were lines on her face and her hair was no longer blonde but grey and thin.

“What's happening to you?” Sue asked. “You're not dying, too, are you?”

“My time here is always very short,” Brittany explained. “But you have one more of us to travel with tonight. He should be here any minute now.”

“Don't go,” Sue begged. “I learned so much from you. You can't leave me yet.”

Brittany smiled and shook her head. “If you have really learned anything tonight, you will know how to find me again whenever you want to. I won't look the same, you probably won’t even see me at all. But you will always know me when you meet me. Goodbye.”

“No,” Sue shouted, reaching out to take Brittany's hand, but Brittany was fading too fast and Sue's hand just went through her. It wasn't cold, like she had expected it to feel like. It was... almost soothing, pleasant.

And then she was alone in the graveyard.

That was when the fear set back in. She felt her throat close up with it and swallowed, turning around herself a few times, trying to determine where she was exactly. But a thick fog was rising fast and within minutes, she couldn't even see her hand before her eyes. It was hard to breathe like this, with the sudden claustrophobia that was bearing down on her, suffocating her until all she wanted was to scream.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it any more, the fog parted right in front of her and a figure appeared; a tall, dark, hooded figure that was floating, not walking, in her direction.

“H... hello,” she stammered. “I've been waiting for you, I think.”

The figure stopped just a few feet away and Sue looked up to meet its eyes, but was met with nothing. There was no face under that hood, just emptiness, a blank space, a blackness so dark it chilled her insides and made her stumble a few steps backwards.

“I know who you are,” she finally said, her own voice sounding hollow in her ears. “Welcome, Ghost of Christmas Future. You have come to teach me, and I am finally willing to learn. Lead the way.”

The ghost bowed slightly, then just pointed ahead, gesturing for her to go.

“Won't you speak to me?” Sue asked, but when the ghost just kept pointing, she nodded, biting her lip. “Very well, then.”

She started walking, the ghost always behind her, guiding her steps without ever telling her where to go. She just knew; instinctively. They paused on the street outside her office in broad daylight; it was raining hard.

A few people some way down the street, all dressed in black, were talking about a funeral.

“Well, I'm just going for the food,” one of them said. “Certainly not for the dear departed.”

“Dear?” Another of them laughed. “I bet no one ever called her that while she still lived.”

Sue looked at the ghost, confused. “Who are they talking about?” she asked, but the ghost didn't answer. She nodded slowly, accepting that this was one thing she would have to figure out for herself, and kept watching. She actually knew some of them. She had done business with them on several occasions. They were probably the closest thing she'd ever had to actual friends.

“Do you know what will happen with all her money?” One of them asked.

“No idea,” the first one replied. “I just know she didn't leave any of it to me.”

“Do you think she wanted to be buried with it?”

They all started laughing. “In that case, they would need several coffins.”

“Seriously. I think she never spent a single penny in her life. Just kept hoarding all of it.”

Sue turned toward the ghost, touching the fabric of his sleeve with the fingers of one hand. It was oddly cool to the touch. “I get it,” she finally said. “I know what you want to tell me. The fate of this poor woman could be my own, if I don't change. But I will, don't you see? A life can be rewritten, isn't that right? I don't have to end up like her.”

The ghost showed no sign of reaction, merely stood beside her, unmoving and tall, darker than the night.

“I have seen enough of this,” Sue begged. “Please. The whole future can't be like this. Show me something happy, I beg of you. Some sign of hope.”

The ghost motioned for her to start walking again and they made their way through the town, until they stopped in front of the Hummel's house.

“Do you want me to go inside?” Sue asked.

The ghost merely pointed, and Sue took a deep breath and stepped through the wall. She had not expected the sight before her eyes.

The once light and colourful room looked like it hadn't been cleaned in too long and the three children were sitting in the same corner by the fire, only their game wasn't as joyful and loud as it had been when Sue had been here before – just a few minutes ago for her, a full year ago for the family. A tall man sat at the table, head propped up on his hands as he watched the children with a sad expression on his face.

“That is Kurt's brother,” Sue exclaimed. She had seen him once before, when Kurt had tried to convince her to hire him as well. She had refused. “What is he doing here? Why is he so sad?”

The ghost, as before, remained silent.

“Uncle Finn?” one of the little girls asked, walking over to him. “When is dad going to be home?”

Finn smiled at her and lifted her up to sit on his knee. “Soon, you'll see,” he said.

“He's been walking a lot slower lately,” the little boy in the corner said. “We’ve all noticed. He's always so sad now.”

“We're all sad,” Finn said. “But it will get better, I promise.”

Sue turned her head when the door opened and saw Kurt enter. Her heart clenched painfully as she saw him. His eyes were red-rimmed and his skin even paler than usual. He was hunched over a little and he seemed to drag his feet with every step. Being usually so very well dressed, it was even more obvious now how little care he had taken with his outfit today. He looked heartbroken and Sue immediately knew what had happened.

“No,” she whispered. “No, not Blaine.”

“Dad,” the children called and he hugged them all, kissed them like he had that last time. If he was clinging to them a little bit longer than Sue could remember him doing a year ago, she could see the children clinging to him the same way. It was as if they needed to reassure each other that they were all still here, all still alive.

“Go wash your hands,” Kurt told them, a small and sad smile on his face. “And then get back here and we'll get started on Christmas dinner. You can all help me cook.”

The children walked away and Kurt turned toward his brother. “Thank you for watching them today, Finn. I didn't know who else to ask.”

Finn nodded, patting his shoulder affectionately. “No problem. How are you doing?”

Kurt sighed, waving a hand through the air while he was apparently fighting back tears. His voice was low and a little choked when he finally answered. “I found him a spot today, I think. Up on the hill, with a nice view of the lake. He loved that lake. He took me there so many times when... It is where he kissed me for the first time, where I proposed to him. Later, he took the children there every Sunday until he got so sick he couldn't leave the house any more. I think he'll like it there, I... I think it will be...” A sob escaped his throat and he covered his face with both hands, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Finn was there in a few quick steps, hugging him tightly while Kurt continued to cry.

Sue knew. She knew about loss, she knew what it was like to feel your heart break, to have your life shattered into a million different pieces. She knew grief, she remembered it, and she saw it in each of Kurt's movements now, in every look, every breath, every gesture, every step he took. And she cried with Kurt, cried for Blaine, the man she had never even known, cried for the three children who had lost a parent and for the remaining parent who looked as if he could never be happy again in his life.

“I miss him so much,” Kurt sobbed into Finn's shoulder, his voice tight with despair. “Finn, I miss him so much and every day I have to be strong for the children and I don't know how to do any of this without him, I don't know how to live without him. It was never supposed to be this way, he was going to do all of this _with_ me, we were supposed to be doing it all together, and now... I need him, I always needed him _so much_ , I want him back, Finn, I just want him back, please, I want him back...”

“Shh, I know,” Finn tried to soothe him, even though he sounded close to tears himself. “I know. We're all here for you, me and Rachel and Noah and Mercedes. We're all here for you and the children, you're not alone, you're not alone, Kurt, just remember that.”

“Ghost,” Sue said, looking at the empty, dark figure beside her. “Is this the future that _will_ inevitably happen or is it merely a future that _could_ happen? Can any of this be changed? Please tell me there is still hope. Please tell me this doesn't have to happen, please, I’ll do anything...”

The ghost just pointed the way again, and Sue let out a defeated sigh, starting to walk, slower than before, her heart broken all over just as it had learned how to beat again.

Soon enough, they found themselves back in the graveyard and the ghost stopped. Sue took the opportunity to talk again, to at least try to have some of her questions answered. “You showed me all of this so I can change it, didn't you?” she asked. “You wouldn't have shown me this if there was nothing I could do. There has to be a way. I'll send them the best doctors, I'll do anything, just please...”

The ghost raised a hand and pointed again.

“Something else you want to show me?” Sue looked in the direction indicated to her by the ghost. “I hope this isn't quite as bad.”

She walked a few feet, but all she could see was gravestones. “I don't know what you want me to do,” Sue admitted, because it was the first time she didn't immediately understand what the spirit asked of her.

He glided a little closer, hand still outstretched, and Sue followed the pointing finger with her eyes until her gaze fell upon a tall grey stone, plain and ugly.

“That's what you want me to see?” Sue asked. “Is this the grave of the poor woman those folks were talking about earlier? Am I about to learn who she was?”

She hesitated a moment before kneeling in the frozen dirt in front of the stone. The heavy snowfall had covered up the writing on it and she had to wipe it clean with her bare hands, shaking a little with a mixture of actual cold and a peculiar sense of dread that was suddenly spreading through her bones, under her skin.

Slowly but surely she revealed the writing on the stone, her body shaking even more as she finally took in the name she had known all along was written on there.

 _Sue Sylvester_.

“No,” she whispered. “Please, please, no, not this, I beg you.” Turning on her knees, she grabbed the hem of the spirit's robes, burying her face into the fabric. “I can change,” she promised, crying. “I _will_ change. I am not the person I was this morning. Not any more. I swear. I will live in the past, the present, and the future. I will be better. I can change, I can do it, please spare me from this, please, don't...”

She fell forward, the cold from the graveyard suddenly gone and as she opened her eyes, she found herself in her own bed, her hands grasping the bed curtains, and sunlight was streaming through the window, bright and clear.

“I'm alive,” she whispered. And then repeated, louder, “I'm alive. I'm _alive_.”

And she could feel it, in a way she hadn't felt in decades. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, could feel her own heart, beating in her chest. She jumped out of her bed, hurrying over to the window to open it and lean outside, feeling the sunlight on her face, warming her down to her core. The fresh, cold air of a December morning helped waking her up until she was more awake than she had been in years.

The streets below were full of snow and she could hear the laughter and joy of the people outside, could feel and smell and see the wonder of Christmas, the magic of human kindness that this day was all about.

“I can't believe it,” she said, feeling like dancing. “I am as light as a feather, as happy as an angel, as merry as a school girl. I feel amazing.”

A young girl walked by below her window, and she reminded Sue of someone, of someone from long ago, someone she didn't want to forget any more.

“Hey, you. Little girl,” she called out, and the girl stopped, looking up to her.

“Who, me?” she asked.

“Yes, you,” Sue answered, laughing, because she felt so light, so light. “What's your name?”

“Becky.”

“Well, Becky, can you tell me what day it is?”

“Why, it's Christmas, of course,” Becky told her, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe how stupid Sue was.

“It's Christmas,” Sue shouted. “Of course it is. The spirits did it all in one night. I didn't miss it. Becky,” she added, turning her attention back to the girl. “Do you know the Poulterer's, just down the street?”

“I sure do,” Becky replied.

“An intelligent girl,” Sue exclaimed. “A remarkable girl. Have you seen the prize turkey that was hanging up there? The big one?”

“The one twice as big as me?” Becky asked.

“That's the one,” Sue said. “Go and buy it for me.” She tossed her a few coins. “You can keep the rest of the money. Just hurry back here.”

The girl gave her a wide smile and sped down the street.

Sue danced over to her wardrobe, putting together the most cheerful outfit she could find.”I'll bring the turkey to Kurt Hummel and his family,” she said to herself. “That should be a nice surprise for them. They will have proper food on their table this year, if Sue Sylvester has anything to say about it.”

Not half an hour later, she was on her way, Becky trailing along. The girl seemed to have taken to her and Sue liked her company. She hadn't liked anyone's company in a long, long time. It was a good feeling, not having the urge to snap at everyone who crossed her way. She even started wishing people a Merry Christmas, tentative at first, more confident later when she realised that most of them were actually happy enough to say it back.

She couldn't wait to see Kurt and his family, to hear their laughter and see their happiness and be the one to contribute to it, hopefully, a little bit this Christmas. But she had to make one more stop before she went there.

The children's homeless shelter was indeed on the way to her clerk's house. Will Schuester and some of the children were standing outside, singing Christmas songs, and quite a number of people had gathered around, watching them with tears in their eyes – something Sue would have found silly only a day ago – tossing coins into the children's upturned hats. Schuester smiled at each and every one of them, and even though Sue still couldn't stand the man, she had to admit that she admired the way he cared about the children. Becky was humming along to the Christmas songs next to her and Sue felt her own voice trying to imitate the notes as well, almost against her will. She just couldn't help it. It had been so long since she had sung anything, she kept her voice very low so that no one would hear how out of practice she was.

When the next song ended, she waved Schuester over to her, almost laughing at the suspicious expression on his face.

“What do you want, Sue?” he asked.

She stuffed her hands in her coat pockets and grinned at him. “Don't worry, I'm not here to punch you in the face. Not today. Actually, my clerk told me yesterday that you asked for donations and I never got back to you on that.”

“You actually want to donate to the homeless shelter?” Schuester asked, taking a careful step back, looking like he was expecting something horrible to happen in the next few seconds, like Sue blowing up the building or the world ending right then and there. “Why?”

“Never mind why,” Sue said. “Just put me down for...” she leaned forward to whisper the sum into his ear.

His eyes went wide and he stared at her in complete disbelief. “Are you serious about this?”

Sue shrugged. “I am, in fact, very serious about this.”

Schuester, not always the fastest, needed a while to let it sink in before Sue suddenly found herself enveloped in a tight hug and it was pure instinct that made her wind her way out of it as quickly as possible. That, and the fact that she really didn't like Schuester very much. Reformed or not, she still had her limits.

“If you promise to be a good boy and never do that again, you will get the same amount next year.”

“Merry Christmas, Sue,” Schuester said, smiling at her.

“Merry Christmas,” Sue replied, smiling back, because why not? It was Christmas after all, and that finally meant something to her again. “Becky, let's go.”

She had no difficulty finding Kurt's house. It was the one with the warm lights and the laughter and the singing. Walking up to the door, she knocked firmly three times, winking at Becky who was still holding the enormous turkey and signalling her to stand back so Kurt wouldn't see her when he opened the door.

She only had to wait a few seconds before she was greeted by Kurt Hummel's smiling face. He seemed to be radiating happiness and Sue felt a warmth spread through her chest that made even her fingertips tingle. Still, she steeled her face into her usual scowl and glared at him.

“I didn't see you at work this morning, Porcelain,” she snapped.

Kurt's eyes turned cold in an instant. “That's because you gave me the day off. We talked about this.”

“Did we now?” Sue crossed her arms in front of her chest, feeling her composure slip for a moment as Blaine appeared next to Kurt in the door frame, slipping an arm around his husband's slim waist and giving Sue a suspicious look.

“You know what, I've had enough of this,” Sue said. “This has gone on long enough and I won't take any more of it.”

She saw Blaine's face grow pale, while Kurt just raised his chin, meeting her gaze without flinching. He wasn't easily intimidated, this one. She knew there had been a reason she had always sort of liked him, even if she hadn't been able to see it before last night. “And that's why,” she went on - 

“You can't fire him,” Blaine cut in. “He's done nothing wrong. You'll never find anyone better than him anywhere.”

Sue raised a hand to silence him, shaking her head. “And that's why I'm going to raise your salary.”

Blaine gasped, Kurt's eyes went almost comically wide for a second. “Um... sorry?” he asked, and Sue was quite proud of herself. She had never seen Kurt Hummel speechless before.

She smiled, uncrossing her arms, and shrugged apologetically. “You heard me. Double salary, starting Monday. And _you_ , Kurt's man...” she pointed at Blaine.

“Blaine,” he said politely, extending a hand which she shook enthusiastically.

“You look a little pale. I know a wonderful doctor, a Miss Pillsbury. Ever heard of her? I'll send her around on Monday.”

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look before Kurt cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. “It's not that we don't appreciate... but we...”

“We can't afford any doctors,” Blaine jumped in, looking even paler than before.

“Nonsense,” Sue said firmly. “You'll be able to afford _her_. I'll pay her myself if I have to. I need Kurt's attention in the office when he's there, not back here worrying about your health. Besides, who is going to look after _them_ , if anything happens to you?” she asked, pointing at the two girls who had just appeared beside their dads in the door, one of them clutching Kurt's leg and the other one Blaine's.

Kurt smiled, and Sue could see tears in his eyes again, but this time she was pretty sure they weren't the bad kind of tears. He looked at Blaine, so much tenderness and affection in his eyes that Sue felt once again like she was intruding on a private moment.

“Anyway,” she said, waving Becky over, who dutifully stepped up to her side, carefully balancing the turkey on her hands. “I was wondering whether you might want to have a nice Christmas dinner with me. I kind of have this huge bird here and I'm never going to be able to eat all of that. Care to help me? You would be doing me a huge favour.”

The children's eyes were practically glowing now, including those of the little boy who had just shown up peering around Kurt's right leg.

“I...” Kurt, again, seemed at a loss for words for a second. “I don't really know if...”

“All right, Porcelain,” Sue said, giving him her sternest look. “Don't make me order you to eat Christmas turkey with me. I'd really rather not have to do that.”

Kurt grinned at her, and yes, that was better. “When have I ever taken orders from you?” he asked.

Sue grinned back. “There's a first time for everything. Come on. It's Christmas. What do you say?”

“All right,” he finally agreed, stepping back to let her inside. “We would be honoured. Please, come in.”

And so Sue Sylvester had her first real Christmas meal since she had been a little girl. She spent most of it just watching and observing, listening to the children's jokes, smiling at the way Kurt and Blaine kept looking at each other and at their children, feeling more at home in this draughty little cottage than she ever had in her cold and lonely mansion.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Sylvester,” Kurt finally said, toasting her with his cup of wine – wine that she had brought along from her own private collection.

“An even merrier Christmas, Porcelain,” Sue replied, “to you and your lovely family. And after dinner, we shall discuss your new salary and we will see what else I can do about helping your family. I promise you, I will make sure you have a Christmas dinner like this one every year from now on.”

Sue was better than her word.

Not only did she raise Kurt's salary, she also paid Miss Pillsbury to cure Blaine, who did _not_ die.

Instead, he went back to work a few months after Christmas. He had been a school teacher before he got sick, so they didn't even need to hire anyone to look after the children. He always went home with them anyway.

Sometimes, when school ended early, they came by the office during Kurt's lunch break. Sue would sit in her office, looking out the window, smiling at the way Blaine taught every child who walked by how to make snow angels in the winter time and how to whistle or dance during the summer months.

She kept watching as Kurt would step outside to hug his children and kiss Blaine; she would watch all the silly games they played together until Kurt's lunch break was over, and she would smile.

It was late one winter afternoon two years later, they were just about to close up for the day when she saw Blaine waiting outside, the children playing a little way down the street. He had his hands in his pockets, leaning under the nearest street light and whistling something, like he always did. And she remembered a Christmas not so long ago, a Christmas that had never happened now because she hadn't let it. And she called to Kurt who was just putting away the last file he had been working on and sent him on ahead, telling him to go home and hug his children for her.

He smiled, shook her hand and grabbed his coat and she waited until he was outside before she sank back in her chair, letting out a sigh that wasn't sad at all.

She saw him, saw the glow that had returned to his skin after Miss Pillsury had told him that Blaine would live, she saw the way Blaine's smile widened as he saw Kurt walk towards him.

And Kurt reached out and took Blaine's face in his hands and kissed him while the snow fell around them, reflecting the soft light from the street lamps. Sue had never seen anything more magically beautiful in her entire life than this family; these two men holding onto each other through everything, their children running around their feet while they kissed each other in the middle of the street. The ghosts had opened her eyes, but these two men and their family had brought her back to life.

“Thank you Rod, and thank you ghosts,” she said, and she meant it. “Thank you for giving me this.”

Kurt and Blaine invited her to Christmas dinner every year, and every year, she went. Over time, she learned how to play with the children. The children started calling her 'aunt' and she let them. She used her money to build a better homeless shelter. She built a bigger school. She let Becky visit her in the office and offered her a position as her assistant once she got older. She unlocked the empty rooms in her house and started inviting guests again. She found friends.

But Kurt and Blaine always remained closest to her heart. Kurt and Blaine and all the love that surrounded them wherever they went. Kurt and Blaine who were still holding hands and falling in love with each other all over again every day. Kurt and Blaine who had taught her that there are two things you can do with love – shut it off or let it flow free, and if you chose the second option and loved strong enough, it could change the world.

After all, it was their warmth that had thawed her heart after years and years of winter. And Sue Sylvester never forgot anything ever again.


End file.
